


Angel Face Fan Club

by mareen



Category: Fight Club (1999)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-01
Updated: 1999-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareen/pseuds/mareen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You need help with that?" he whispers softly and nods down to my erection. ''Maybe you need something new? Something nice and ugly?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel Face Fan Club

**Author's Note:**

> Again, beta-read by Gail. Thanks. :-)

He is such an asshole.

How he's just standing there with his arms crossed over his naked chest and that mocking grin on his face...I'd love to beat the shit out of him. But he likes it when I beat the shit out of him, so instead I just stare back at him with a daring expression on my face.

"Having fun?" he says.

I keep on just glaring, not moving anything.

Maybe I should at least take my hand off my dick. My current position isn't exactly comfortable. Lying on the old and dirty and stinking mattress I have called my "bed" for months now, my boxers dangling somewhere around my knees, covered in sweat and with one of my hands holding my balls while the other one...ah, you know what the other one is doing. And damn it HURTS, you know, because I'm so damn hard... I don't think anyone can imagine how much I'd really love to come right now. Except Tyler maybe, whose fucking  
mocking face is looking down at me.

"Fuck off, Tyler," I just say. He grins about how much I'm still out of breath.

Didn't we have an agreement of some sorts? Don't all men who live together have one of those? Except maybe the one who `live` together. But the rest of those guys who are just sharing a house or whatever, don't they have an agreement, that whenever the other one's bedroom door is closed you are *not* supposed to go in there? But that's exactly what Tyler did to me.

"I did not," he whispers. "You left the door open."

Sometimes, I really wonder how he does these things. Maybe I'll ask him one day.

"Go. A. Way," I answer. I try to make my hand let go. But it is closed around my own flesh and it doesn't want to let go. It's like something inside of me forces me to keep my hand where it is.

"I don't think you really want me to," Tyler muses. "Why would you leave the door open if you wouldn't want me here?"

"It was a mistake."

"I believe it was an invitation."

Sometimes, I'm even thinking that Tyler knows me better than I know myself. And, Boy, I really have to let go of my dick here.

"Maybe you were just tired of playing just with yourself? You know, that 'rubbing' you did there can be kind of releasing now and then...But it gets kind of boring after a while, too.  
And it's not what you really want either. So it's just pointless. A lie."

Unable to move, I watch him while he slowly lets himself go down on his knees beside me. He puts his hands on the mattress and his chin on his hands, and I can't help myself but I'm getting the impression, that suddenly, Tyler looks like a little boy...Or like a predator. However you'd like to think of it.

"You need help with that?" he whispers softly and nods down to my erection. ''Maybe you need something new? Something nice and ugly?"

"Didn't know something like `nice *and* ugly` exists." Not until I met you.

"Oh yes, it does," he smiles.

I close my eyes. Finally, finally!, I am able to let go of my dick. My erection immediately falters, but before it's gone all the way, Tyler's hand has replaced mine, and he slowly and seductively begins to stroke me. Just a bit. Not that much to bring me over the edge right then. But enough to keep my mind occupied, enough to keep me from thinking straight.

I hear myself moan.

"Wouldn't you like to have something else?" he says then, somehow dreamily, while he keeps on with his slight strokes. "Something less boring? Maybe one of those boys down there. Too bad you beat the shit out of the prettiest of them...Why did you do that? Why did you want to destroy him? Because I liked him? Because of the sheer possibility of him ... and me...together?"

"You asshole," I answer. "Get away from me." His movement are spreading my pre-come all over my cock and that makes it easy for him to move his hand up and down in that slow and carefully set rhythm. For just a second I lift up my head from the mattress and watch Tyler move his hand. Of course he realizes that I'm looking at him and he meets my eyes and smiles.

"You want me to stop?" he asks. His thumb adds a bit more pressure to the stroking and again he looks at me and smiles when I can't hold back the groan because the lust rushes through me like fire. "You really want me to stop?" he whispers seductively and his hand disappears.

I helplessly groan. "don't..." I hear myself whisper.

"You *don't* want me to stop?" Somehow he makes his voice sound so innocent.

How is he doing that? How is he able to play me like an instrument all the time?

Tyler closes his hand around the base of my cock and just keeps it there, not moving, only smiling at the shudders going through my body.

I buck into his touch, into his warmth, to make him go on, but he doesn't. He just keeps on reminding me of what he *could* do.

He tortures me, just like he always does. God, he's so good at torturing. He's *that* good at it, I would never want him to stop.

He bends forward and whispers into my ear. His breathing is warm and moist on my face and I want more of it. My breath comes harsh, even to my own ears.

"Who were you thinking about before? Marla, the little slut? Thinking about how it would be like to fuck her?"

He laughs hoarsely. "Really not *that* much to talk about. - Let's think about something...different. Something you wouldn't dare to think about yourself because you are such a good little boy, because it wouldn't be right." He spits the word out like something ugly. Which it probably even is for Tyler. And his voice suddenly turns into something very high-pitched and frightened, something that sounds remarkably like what I remember of the  
person I once was. "Just keep your hands away from the boys, please. It's not right. They are depending on you!" His voice turns into a crescendo, a caricature of my own voice. "This isn't who you are. It's not who you are.."

"Stop it!" I scream at him and he laughs into my ear and whispers the boy's name and then suddenly Tyler's hand starts stroking my cock in a frenzied rhythm and he whispers to me over and over again: "Oh no. You like them both, don't you? Boys and girls. Girls and boys. And wouldn't it be nice to have the little blonde ass whose face you turned into jelly here right now? Wouldn't that be *so* good?"

I don't answer. I just let him possess me, his voice and his hands and the pictures he plants in my head, and I'm feeling as if something has been opened up inside of me, as if I'm suddenly, and for the first time, allowing these things to take me over.

Tyler's other hand parts my legs and presses down between my cheeks and then there's his finger, entering me, pressing into my body, further and further in, and it hurts for a moment, hurts as if I'm on fire.

"Wouldn't it be *really* nice to have him here right now?" he whispers harshly before his fingers find something inside of me, that little spot, and he rubs over it, hard, and that's when all I can do is scream and come and Tyler is laughing into my face, laughing and laughing and whispering words and things into my ear I don't want to hear.

When I come back to myself again, Tyler still sits on the ground right beside my bed and seems to be very pleased with himself.

"Oh, go away," I groan and try to turn away from him, but he puts his hands on both sides of my face and forces me to look at him.

You know what's really gross about this? His hands are wet and sticky and I know exactly  
where that came from.

"Wasn't that a nice little fantasy?" he asks. "We should do that again some day."

"I don't want to," I answer, suddenly angry.

"Why not?" he answers with that voice he sometimes gets, the one that lures you in and makes you realize things he wants you to realize. "Admit your wishes to yourself. This. Is. Your. Life. Get a grip on it. - And besides that..."

His hand caresses my belly. The touch makes me shudder.

"Besides that....No one will ever know. Not the monkeys down there. Not the blonde boy with the nice ass. It's just you and me. I will make you happy and you know you'll like it. Maybe I'll even get you a few `real` boys. Some nice pieces of ass. But in the meantime..." he sighs and lets his fingers trail down to my cock which immediately stirs in anticipation. "There's just the two of us, baby," he whispers. "Just the two of us."

And I can't help but think I'm hearing him laughing again.

I just don't know what's so damn funny.


End file.
